


germolene, dissinfect the scene.

by pidgeontown



Series: pidgeons brainrot songfics [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: 1 single vague paragraph, Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alexis | Quackity Needs a Hug, Alexis | Quackity-centric, Almost Drowning, Angst, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Denial, Disturbing Themes, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, Hurt, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, Imagery, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired by Music, Near Death, Not much tho, Physical Abuse, Smoking, Songfic, Trauma, as usual, bad guy jchlatt, brainrot angst, i cannot take the name quackity serious, quangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29892351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pidgeontown/pseuds/pidgeontown
Summary: please don't go. il eat you whole.Searing hot pain spread across alex's body as he laced his fingers into his offender, not batting an eye at the crushed bone of his nose, the fiery liquid dripping onto the floor, mixed with salty grey tears. He held the abuser’s hands to cradle his face, Swiping the blood from his cheek and lips.song requests open!
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt
Series: pidgeons brainrot songfics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197497
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	germolene, dissinfect the scene.

**Author's Note:**

> obviously heavily inspired by the song breezeblocks - alt-j. so recommend you listen to that while reading  
> [this version is good to loop :)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BAkgAJBd10g&list=TLPQMDcwMzIwMjFLOudQPds-cw&index=14)
> 
> read with caution and heed the tags, shit gets pretty heavy pretty quick. also this I have explicitly written about the characters the ccs play on the dream-SMP, NOT their real-life personas. if they are at any point uncomfortable with this fic I won't hesitate to take it down.
> 
> also this is no way shape or form supposed to glorify or justify abuse. this is just blinding love. i personally have never been a victim and if I portrayed anything that could cause offence please please tell me. the last thing I want to do is make people genuinely upset
> 
> anyway happy reading xx and if you enjoy consider leaving kudos and if you didn't just know you're always welcome x

Alex hung his head heavy over the water basin, dripping blood corrupting on the crisp white porcelain. Bruised and battered knuckles turn white under the pressure.

Having a head heavy and cluttered with thoughts yet completely numb like static was a surreal feeling, pure ecstasy mixed with crippling grief, tired and bloodshot eyes locked onto pale shaky fingers that spin the golden band on his ring finger, aching for grounding movement. grasping for that taste of copper, stinging iron on his tongue. He chased that feeling with panting breaths and splitting lungs, curling his dancing fingers into the soft skin between the two bones in his wrist. Digging his nails into his veins and pooling the crimson ink into his mouth, splintering bones from his wrists, twisting and snapping out of place, like a junkie getting clean, he rips through his restraint with no remorse.

His wrists shake under the pressure of his torso and buckle under the weight. Sending his face smashing into the sink, busting his nose beyond repair like it wasn’t already before. 

_Searing hot pain spread across Alex's body as he laced his fingers into his offender, not batting an eye at the crushed bone of his nose, the fiery liquid dripping onto the floor, mixed with salty grey tears. He held the abuser’s hands to cradle his face, Swiping the blood from his cheek and lips._

alex holds his hands to his face, no comforting warmth, only cool rubber-like digits spread lifelessly across his cheek in an almost disrespectful manner, a pitiful attempt at comforting a living corpse, fresh and cold from the morgue. hot, salty tears stick to his eyelashes when he blinks, pooling on his bottom lash. His heart cracks and he gags at the memory of the gut crunching kicks and blood-curdling screams. alex's fingers trace his heart and he thinks of the fist against his nose.

god, he loves that fist.

_The one that makes him bruise and cough, splutter blood like iron pistol shots. Bullets raining down in a mix of salty rain and ripped petals in the candlelight. The pain is worth the sorry mornings and apology grazes, touches lingering only a second against his busted lip before returning to a burnt cigarette. Blunt stubs and burn marks litter him, ash smeared across his face like delicate face paint. Smudges of burnt orange and grey light, the fire in the cavity of his chest, the strike of a match._

His fingers tap lightly on his skin in a rhythm, quick and methodical like the lyrics to a song, an unfinished symphony of burning love and desire, the burning pages of nonsensical lyrics and beats slightly off tempo. Alex stands up and ways his weight from one foot to another, balancing himself on the side of the bathtub. His head stings and his eyes are curtained over in a thin red film, glossed and glass. He lifts his body into the bathtub and begins twisting the taps and letting water slowly replace thin, stuffy air.

_The air in the room was stiff with smoke and the smell of whisky lingered heavy and hot on the ceiling, smearing the white walls in black, honey-filled tar, thick like treacle syrup. the molasses quickly oozed to his feet and covered in a thin, indistinguishable layer of grime and sugar, attracting wasps and hornets as they lathered in the smokey aftertaste. The air choked him, not being able to inhale the only thing that kept him alive. Smokey hands wrapped around his throat and squeezed teasingly as he collapsed into a coughing fit. Tears pooling in the corner of his eyes as he tried and failed to regain composure. The walls burnt and peeled from the frame, scaling and boiling white. The smog kissed his tanned skin and tightened its grip, blistering and burning his neck. Melting flesh dripped off the bone, like alcohol corrupting polystyrene. White-hot pain quickly replaced every choke, flooding his throat at the attack on the raw flesh._

Closing his eyes, Alex let the scolding, hot water cover his clothed body, the fabric sticking uncomfortably close to his beat body. Blood made branches in the water, dissipating and spreading throughout, only to remind him he is bathing in his own filth and grime. Copper and sweat mixed in an uncomfortable concoction as he found himself feeling that familiar feeling of air loss, steam snaked down his throat coating his brain in a cloudy fog and clearing his sinuses. honey persisted to cover his skin, this time salty and thin, it dripped not oozed. 

_Heavy breaths filled the confined room, feeling not nearly big enough. Muscle to muscle, Sweat licked their bodies as their pants and pleads were drained out by white noise filling Alex's ears like flies. Consistent buzzing similar to that of a high, the most votes, the winner of an election, promised presidency. The skin on skin felt intimate, yet there stayed a layer of disgust and grimace growing in his ribcage. The room feels too small and there is clearly not enough air for the both of them yet alex shared his hot, precious breaths with another. honey pooled in his eyes yet it quickly turned sour. Sweet licks of salty sweat turned sulfuric._

alex lifted his head from the water, gasping for air only to be met with stuffy thick cotton. He splutters but gets used to the choking hold the steam has. He pulls his arms out of the water, waterlogged clothes hang heavy on his forearm, the water sizzling at the heat of the room and evaporating into thin air. alex's nose continues to bleed only to be net with his tongue lapping up the iron on his top lip, rescuing the water from contamination. He rattles his hand around in the cabinet out of his peripheral vision until he feels the familiar feeling of a thin plastic squeeze bottle. Not the thing he expected to save him but he’s grateful nonetheless. He half empties the small blue tube into his hand surprised when he squeezed with more force than needed. The bottle now mostly empty and covered in a thin layer of slippy blood and water he recaps the tube and places it back into the near-empty cabinet.

alex slicks his hands with the pink oily ointment and lathers the cuts and bruises on his visible skin, rolling up his sleeves just in case. The germline cools his boiling pink skin, disinfecting the gruesome scene. A boy laying in a bathtub full to the brim with scorching hot water, boiling himself alive in a suffocatingly steamy room, the smell of copper and chemicals present. when you glance at him he’s limp in the arms of the porcelain, blood dripping from his face, painting a picture of smokey purples, acid yellows and copper-red. tinting the water germoline pink, bathing in the ointment in the illusion that drugstore disinfectants could save his far-gone mental and physical state.

_A gentle hand grazes his as the bubblegum cream is smeared on his knuckles. His mind foggy and a blur but he evidently got a few hits in compared to the bloody carpets and shaking adrenaline pumping through his veins. The other seemingly coming down from violent, searing anger to tend to Alex._

The memory makes alex's chest convulse, not the soft shivering wings brushing his stomach, not those small vibrations sent down his spines by insect batting their wings at his vertebrae, not the moths that settled in the cool and damp, excitedly fluttering at the flickering light of his heart. The type of convulsion that makes his stomach contract, suffocating the remaining moths. The type of shudder that makes him want to latch fishhooks under his collarbones, winding around the tense ribbons of muscle and bone, wanting to cast his line and pull his ribcage from his chest with a single excruciating tug. Ripping and splintering the cartilage and snapping veins from there place, quackitys heart caught on the hook. 

_A sharp kick came down onto his ribs, cracking and buckling under the pressure of his heaving breaths, the weak cage protecting his choppy lungs and oily heart now disintegrating. Weak nudges came at his side and he relishes at the sensation of the light touches, blissful as alex knows he’s wanted awake, not to suffer. The corners of his vision blur as he’s tugged onto his knees by his copper stained collar. He feels furious breath on his broken nose, the sensitive nerves burning under the oxygen. The other sneers and shouts, stomps and spits. When they are left unresponsive, they quiet down. Alex feels the weight of his own body lift as he’s effortlessly carried towards his bed, dropped with the splitting reality of cold water splashing his face, He gasps and is left with the burden of pained consciousness for far too long._

alex thinks about what he would do if he managed to coax the heart of the other onto the line. Would he dangle it in front of his face like a trophy? Would he devour it like the lucky catch it was? To have even a piece of the other was gold in his eyes, irreplaceable gold, cold stark metal. He spins the ring in its place on his finger. Revelling in the cool touch of the metal on his pruned fingertips, his last piece of gold. 

_Loving hands held onto quackitys in an innocent show of affection, syrup dripping from their fingertips. The grip tightened, jaw clenched and gritting teeth, molars gnawing at his knuckles. Tightened and tightened until bones snap and teeth puncture skin. His ring hits open bone and flesh in a cold rush of hot, molten, liquid copper, dripping gold contrasting on icy, smooth, unclean, oxidising metal. The biting grip on his hand released and his hand left mangled and swollen, his ring slip off his finger followed by melting skin._

alex's head dunks back underwater in a blinding splash, water filling his ears and nose, entering his brain, by proxy into his bloodstream. Boiling water travelling through his bloodstream cooking him inside out. Like turpentine as a replacement for his blood, dissolving him from under his skin. His nose floods with a mix of blood and water, curdling in his skull. His body weighs down with waterlogged clothes, saturated and sodden with humidity. Alex held his head under the water, burning oxygen threatening to escape his aching lungs. The adrenaline of drowning effortlessly pumped under his skin, keeping his nose below the break of the surface. His lungs began spasming and the rush of blood to his head quickly became too much as his head burst from under the water. Heaving and coughing out his lungs, spluttering blood and water out of his mouth and nose. The feeling of blood returning to his body made him momentarily lightheaded. A fog of bliss and pins and needles filled quackitys limbs in an odd dose of excitement and fear.

_A handheld his head under the surface. Inhaling litres of suds and bubbles along with lukewarm water. His body thrashed and convulsed under the weight of his body being held down. The weight felt unmatched. A Hand pressed down of his face crushing his nose, the other spread on his chest applying bone-crushing pressure. alex's eyes became hazy in his peripheral as the pressure built until it felt akin to a breezeblock, concrete weight pressing on his ribcage and into his lungs. Overwhelming sensations jolted his body into a sense of realisation as he felt his body become unresponsive and limp under the cement weight, Tylenol pain killers. Alex dissolves, like tabs on the other’s tongue._

Shaking hands haul him out of the bathtub and sag into his clothes. He’s dripping wet and freezing, yet he feels contentment, the ring burning through his finger. He massages in the excess germolene into his collarbones, wrists, knuckles and nose and shivers at the contact. Alex riffles through the cupboards for an extra buzz, a kick of self-worth and a painless high. His hand lingers on a pack of untitled morphine tablets. alex rolls the small pressed powder pill in his finger and thumb before placing it on his tongue, relishing in the melting sensation. he takes a few more and dry swallow them without thinking of the consequences. The slight aftertaste of the powdery tablets tastes chalky on his tongue. Not the sugar and smoke his usual painkiller provides. He feels drips of water ghost down his back like fingertips under his skin. 

_Calloused fingers ghost over his skin and over his arms. Affectionate touches up his arms and into the centre of his shoulder blades, applying slight pressure. A comforting frame of a body next to his. Alex feels a humid breath on the cartilage of his ear and saccharine dipped words enter his brain with the aroma of roses and honey clouding his senses, the metallic, bitter aftertaste becomes ever more evident from the acidic sweetener. He feels the urge to roll his shoulders and sever the hand with the blades of his shoulders, like a guillotine slicing through delicate tissue and ruthless bone effortlessly. One fatal movement. Yet he stays relaxed and his shoulders drop into place._

Hands gripping back onto the sink he becomes lightheaded at the memory, momentarily stunned at his former thought process. Alex stumbles into his bedroom and sinks into his mattress. Not bothering to peel the bloodsoaked clothes from his back. Opting to pass out uncomfortably in drenched fabric. 

alex is plagued by pre-sleep haziness as he relives every past Minuit, every punch, every kick, every spitting word but more dominantly every licking kiss, every sweet breath. Those memories are the ones he allows come to the forefront of his mind when he gets the chance of free-thinking, glossing his vision in honey, clouding reality. Yet quackity has learned to love the hurt nearly as much, questioning the morals of the other is no discussion because he knows every answer that will be given. Pure and simple the answer is love. That burning desire to love and hate blend into one in a messy show of hurting effection. Sometimes clotted blood stains and stinging skin can show love more than a rose petal covered bed and a gold plated wedding ring. More often than not bruised skin can create a gorgeous painting of contrasting violets and crimsons, messily splattered on the canvas, better than the expensive, rich oil paints and the most talented renaissance artists. He holds no hesitation when he thinks he would eat the other whole if it means he can return the love. Two guns go off, yet his own will forever stay empty until its determined enough to empty the other barrel and fill his own.

“quackity?”  
“Mhm”

…

“Hold my hand, please don’t cry”

“Schlatt”

“I know. My hearts yours now quack, as broken as it may be. take good care of it will you?”

“Please don’t go”

“alexis”

“Il do my best Mr president”

“Im glad”

…

“I love you so”

…

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. again if you enjoyed it please consider leaving kudos and if it wasn't your thing know you're always welcome back x
> 
> also please tell me if there are errors or if you have constructive criticism. or just comment your thoughts on the piece. whatever you want
> 
> **you can also now request songs!! so gimme a song and il listen to it and maybe write bout it? we will see**


End file.
